


An Alpha Name

by OneSmartChicken



Series: Drabbles [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always-a-girl!Stiles, Angst, Baby, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Pregnancy, detailed warnings in notes, everybody's alive nobody dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneSmartChicken/pseuds/OneSmartChicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek adrenaline-junkied their way into teen pregnancy--except Stiles didn't tell him.</p>
<p>This is the tale of Lydia and Stiles' epic bromance and how a baby werewolf took over the world(except not really).</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Alpha Name

**Author's Note:**

> I write way more pregnancy stuff than I'm comfortable with. In my defense, I currently live with an itty puppy. Also my hormones are out of control. I don't even want children. I don't even like children. But these keep happening.
> 
> Also eventually you're gonna get a fic of pure fluff with Derek being all doting over pregnant!Stiles. Today is not that day though.
> 
> Let me just say that the original idea for this was like 50-80k and a LOT angstier. Also fluffier though. eventually. so. Fair trade-off or something I guess. I decided I didn't feel like writing 50-80k of this though so here's what ya get. I considered having this be Lydia or Allison or Erica instead, with like obvious changes, but ultimately the plot was meant for Sterek so...Sterek it is.
> 
> Uh some of you may know I'm something of a diehard Scallisac shipper but there's none of that here. There's...Erica/Boyd though(the fuck is their ship name? everything I can think of just sounds absurd and vaguely hilarious) and everybody's alive except the Hales. And nobody hates anybody because fluff. Ultimately this is just fluff with a layer of angst because I'm mean and like to hurt you. I don't mention everybody at every part because I'm forgetful and tend for forget certain people exist(-cough-PeterandCora-cough-) but they're totally there.
> 
> **Warnings**? Uh. Warnings. Warnings for a difficult pregnancy? And some poor decision making? And teen pregnancy sort of? But with responsibility mixed in because I have certain ideas about these things? And there's some Stydia that's technically platonic but feels very not-platonic. It snuck in there. They're my brotp so. No you'll never get a fic from me where Stiles and Lydia aren't bros. Never. Not a one.
> 
> _Yes I wrote girl!stiles again I didn't mean to it just happened leave me alone shuddup_

The battlezone was tiny; just a small clearing on the Westernmost edge of the Preserve, no more than 30 by 50 feet, probably less, Stiles didn't exactly bring measuring tape. It looked, though, like--well, like a warzone. Like blood had been spilled and lives lost on the once green grass. Trees, leaves and grass and flowers, rocks, all of it was stained and darkened, dirt torn up and blood splattered over seemingly every inch of what was probably once a serene clearing. The victors, the survivors, stood in bloodied, stoic silence over the bodies of the fallen. Some leaned on others, some were hugging, mostly there were just staring though, silent and uncomfortable.

"Holy shit," Stiles breathed, summing up the whole experience while breaking the tension that hung in the aftermath. Derek jerked on the other side of the field, red eyes flaring and landing on her. They didn't move away. Everyone else, though, reacted as if Stiles' voice had released them from a spell. Erica laughed, relieved and slightly hysterical.

"Fucking gnomes," Lydia hissed venomously, despite the fact that she'd spent the last three weeks correcting Jackson whenever he called their tiny nemesis gnomes.

"Redcaps," Jackson muttered, seeming dazed. Stiles and Allison cracked up. As their laughter filled the clearing, Scott grinned and swept his ex-girlfriend off her feet, dragging her in for a kiss that was strangely platonic. Not that strangely though, not for them at least, not anymore. The pack was sort of strange as a whole. Scott spun Allison around as she laughed in delight, then deposited her abruptly, Boyd catching her around the waist and dragging her in for one of his increasingly common but always silent bear hugs. Scott picked up Stiles next, as she had anticipated, and she hung on as he spun her around and planted a kiss on _her_ lips for good measure. She grimaced at him because ew, practically-brother kisses, but she hugged him anyway, giving in and laughing when he blew a raspberry on her neck. He practically dropped her, even less gently than he had deposited Allison, and she stumbled into Erica who decided to enthusiastically mimic Scott. Right down to the kiss. And the completely graceless dumping, because no one remembered that Stiles was a)human and b)not a long-range fighter like their other two humans. She winced, sucking in a sharp breath and trying not to show it; she didn't want to mess up the pack's celebration. But Derek noticed. Of course he did. He was there beside her, without a sound, and it said a lot about how often the wolves had snuck up on her that she barely even jumped when his hand settled in the middle of her back.

"Alright, everyone break it up. Get home. Shower. Eat something. Scott, ride with Isaac and Allison; I'm taking Stiles home." Because Stiles' jeep was officially a Lost Cause and Stiles was so not driving out to supernatural functions in the former undercover cruiser her dad had managed to get her as a graduation present. She usually caught a ride with someone else, someone not-Derek, though. Because Isaac usually rode with Derek and anyway it was easier for Allison and Scott to pick her up and drop her off; Casa de Stilinski was close to the McCall's, and their last break-up had left Scott and Allison with the realization that they were _great_ as friends so the car was an awkward-free totally-bros zone with the three of them. It was kind of awesome. Derek driving her home though? Not awesome. And Scott was going to argue and Stiles really did not feel like dealing with the Scott-Derek drama that still persisted for no fathomable reason. She kind of wanted to fight about it, actually, but fuck was she tired of fighting. So she broke in before the argument could even begin, which shouldn't have felt as old-hat as it did. Those two really needed to sort their shit out.

"We're totally having a party though. Like, tomorrow. After we all get some fucking sleep," Stiles announced, and grinned at the tired cheer that went around, despite the scowl she could just _feel_ hovering over her shoulder. The pack stumbled off to their separate vehicles, and then Derek was dragging her to the Toyota because apparently she couldn't walk on her own. Except she totally could walk on her own, actually. Ironically, getting dragged about by a werewolf? Yeah, not a skill of hers, oddly enough. She tripped over a very red rock that was definitely not the head of one of the redcaps, _definitely not oh my god_ , and cussed as she nearly went down, and then cussed some more when Derek's grip on her arm jarred the bite on her shoulder. Which was ridiculous because redcaps were like a foot tall but the fuckers could seriously jump. Shit wasn't even right.

Derek adjusted, gentled his hold immediately, catching and rearranging her. She gratefully face-planted into his stomach, which hurt her back and knees but she didn't care. Derek did though, and dragged her up so she was face-planted into his chest instead. She wasn't even sure how he had known the pose was hurting her. Probably because it looked incredibly painful, actually. Mystery solved. God she loved when mysteries were easily solved.   
Or hey, even better, when they didn't matter because they didn't involve fucking murder and mayhem.

"You're hurt," Derek informed her, like he did literally every time she got so much as a papercut. It would have been funny, used to be funny in fact, but mostly it was just weird now.

"Redcaps are vicious fuckers," she confirmed, and then her head lifted and their eyes met and wow they were really close she did not expect that. She also did not expect his fingers to burrow into her hair, drag her close and just a little up, right into a kiss that blew every other kiss she'd ever been involved in right out of the water. He kicked the boyfriend she'd had in senior year out of the ballpark forever. Kissing Derek was better than sex with--whatshisname. Fuck. What was his name? What was _her_ name, for that matter?

Then Derek did a thing with his tongue and she really didn't care any more. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she enthusiastically returned the kiss, applying teeth to his lips as she jumped. Obediently, surprisingly, he caught her legs and helped her wrap them around his waist. With his hand holding up her ass, kissing was suddenly a lot more comfortable, and she hummed appreciatively into his mouth. Derek swallowed the sound.

"Car, Derek," she growled, because she knew where this kiss was going. Derek didn't even argue, just strode off like the freakishly strong werewolf he was. Thank fuck for that too because Stiles would never get over the trauma of sex in the middle of a bunch of dead gnomes. Not that she wouldn't probably have gone through with it anyway; the adrenaline had only barely started to wear off and was now in full force. Bites? What bites? She was perfectly healthy _and about to have a dick in her even if she had to tear Derek's pants off with her teeth._

Derek was fully on board with the sex though, and the Toyota's backseat was a lot roomier than the Camaro's which was the first good thing she had to say about it in comparison to Derek's old car-o-sex(which ironically would have been horrible for sex, unless it was on the hood...hmmm...). She didn't even have to use her teeth on his pants. She totally offered though. Derek made a growling-groan sound like that was the hottest thing he'd ever heard, which was, coincidentally, the hottest thing _she'd_ ever heard, and the sex was pretty much fantastic. She came six times, which, new record for her, and she got Derek off twice. So overall, good experience. A+. And when she stumbled into the house, her dad wasn't even there to judge her. Two thumbs up. 10/10, would repeat experience, minus redcaps and bloodiness. She dozed off in the shower, but that was okay because Derek was there, having apparently crawled into the window like a freak, and then they had shower sex which was on her sexy bucket list and totally hot as fuck because, again, freaky werewolf strength. She crawled under the covers naked and sated and completely exhausted, but scooted over and started to tell him to just spend the night. But the bastard was already out the window, having snagged clothes out of the stash everyone kept at everyone else's house because werewolves were a hazard to clothing.

Stiles felt her stomach knot, and she frowned at the window. She wanted to call him, demand he come back and cuddle her. But her cell phone was in the bathroom, and her bed was so comfy. She burrowed into the covers and, despite a sudden miserable ache that brutally murdered her afterglow, was asleep within minutes.

 

 

Three months later, give or take, it was raining and she hadn't seen Derek outside of a pack meeting since the redcaps. Since they had sex, in other words. He hadn't even shown up for the We Totally Killed a Bunch of Redcaps party, and he wouldn't reply to her texts, not even to berate her for the party's name. She had been thinking of calling him, because he always picked up when she called; she rarely called him unless it was an emergency. Except she was kind of scared he might not pick up. So she was thinking of just storming over to his house, and then she was really really sick, like throwing up for an hour straight sick, and maybe she was paranoid except no, apparently she wasn't. Stiles was never that lucky.

Six different brands of sticks designed to be peed on later(oh modern marvels), she was standing, sopping wet, on Lydia's doorstep, still holding the last test which seemed particularly excited about her predicament. She wasn't sure if she was going to throw up some more or break the stupid fucking happy ass stick. Instead of either of those options, she knocked on the door. It was a quiet, hesitant little tap, so it probably wasn't surprising that it took Lydia so long to get there. She didn't knock again though; just stared at the little symbol and thought about the paper she wrote as a junior about Eleanor of Aquitaine. It was twelve pages long even though the teacher only required three. It was also off-topic. She couldn't remember what the topic was supposed to be. Probably because the topic had been boring, thus off-topic research paper on a more interesting subject.

"Stiles?" Lydia prompted Stiles into looking up. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles jerked, then gave a flailing shrug that was less shrug, more flail. "Scott wouldn't answer his phone," she said weakly by way of explanation, and didn't realize she was waving the pregnancy test around until Lydia's eyes locked onto it.

On reflex, she started to hide it behind her back, but really; she shouldn't even have bothered. Especially since she was moving at approximately the speed of syrup in a Canadian winter, and besides, it was Lydia. There was no hiding things from Lydia. Before Stiles' hand could get more than a few scant inches towards her back, Lydia had snatched the test out of her hand and was examining it.

"I peed on that," Stiles protested softly, but it mostly just came out like a very sad admission. Lydia looked up at her, slightly agape, and then she was being hauled inside. The door was slammed shut, and Stiles was herded into the bathroom where Lydia stripped her naked, wrapped her into a fluffy robe that pretty much ruined Stiles for all other robes, and then herded her out and into the kitchen. Lydia provided a very complicated flavor of ice cream that tasted like the hopes and dreams of puppies before she finally spoke.

"You know these are false really often," she said.

"I took six. All different brands," Stiles told the ice cream morosely.

"It could still be inaccurate," Lydia insisted.

"I've been throwing up for three days." The ice cream didn't react.

"There's a virus going around."

"I had sex with Derek after we killed the redcaps." Still no reaction from the dessert, so Stiles added, "We didn't use a condom. Adrenaline makes people stupid."

Lydia got Stiles an appointment within the hour, and then they stole Jackson's Porsche and drove forty-five minutes to the doctor because the only good clinic that was closer wouldn't have a spot open until the next day which was not good enough for Lydia Martin. When Stiles' name was called, she clung to Lydia's hand and gave her a wild-eyed look, so Lydia came along for the exam which would have been weird except they were pack and Lydia was sort of her best friend(Scott was her brother; there was a difference).

"So, you're going to have a baby," Lydia said as they sat in a nice little froyo place and shared some chocolate-smothered chocolatey chocolateness.

"Mm." Stiles hummed around the froyo.

"You could have an abortion, you know," Lydia pointed out gently, even though Stiles had already told the doctor she had no intention of aborting the fetus. She was pro-choice, but Stiles hadn't even hesitated on a firm _no._ She actually considered it when Lydia suggested it though. Thought about it, with no one but herself and her best friend there. Her hands were curling over her flat stomach before she knew it, and then she was vehemently shaking her head.

"No," she said, and then again, " _No._ This is...it's mine. I can't--Lydia. It's _Derek's_. And mine. And I just--"

"Okay," Lydia interrupted, which was when Stiles realized she was starting to cry. That was stupid. Stiles didn't cry. Well, except over fiction or people she loved dying. She wasn't a crier. But there was Lydia, shooshing her, petting her hand like she was a whimpering damsel in distress. "That's okay. We'll figure it out."

"We're going to Harvard next week," Stiles whispered, and her bottom lip trembled when she looked up at Lydia. Lydia smiled though.

"Yes," she said, firm. "We are. We'll figure it out as we go along, okay? You need to tell your dad."

"I know."

"You should tell Derek."

"I don't wanna," Stiles mumbled, small and miserable. Lydia moved into the booth with her and they snuggled against each other, holding hands and both sniffling a bit because crying was an infectious disease. Stiles fully blamed the babies and women that had been crying at the doctor's office.

"Then we won't," Lydia promised, so they didn't. They didn't tell anyone, except the sheriff, who surprised Stiles by not yelling. He threatened Derek though, and they didn't tell him they weren't telling Derek. They did say they weren't telling the pack yet though, claiming they didn't want to add to the stress of college. He didn't agree with them, but Lydia managed to wrangle a promise out of him not to tell anyone, and they agreed they would figure out everything, together, as it came. It would work out, John and Lydia both promised, and they were usually right so Stiles trusted them. It helped that she and Lydia would be sharing a dorm at college, although only two of their classes overlapped. They would figure it out.

 

Stiles' doctor said her morning sickness was unusually bad and gave her a new diet, which Lydia made her stick to. Saturday was her cheat day, which the doctor said was fine. The morning sickness got a little better.

 

Stiles didn't have much of an appetite.

 

Stiles was thirty pounds underweight from where the doctor said she should be for 6 months pregnant. She had a tiny bump though, and she pet that bump constantly. Looked at it in the mirror every chance she got. Tried not to notice her ribs, didn't think about how she'd always been skinny but she couldn't remember her ribs ever being so defined.

 

 

The doctor gave her a new diet, focusing on calorie intake, and made her drop a few classes. Lydia convinced her to drop even more, saying she could pick them up next year. The sheriff agreed. As did Melissa, who had found out because the sheriff was actually pretty terrible at keeping secrets, especially from someone he was dating. Which, oh right, that happened. Stiles and Scott were both pretty much ecstatic.

 

 

Stiles finally put on weight, and her bump grew rapidly. Literally overnight. Lydia was so ecstatic she actually cried, and the doctor was so relieved Stiles had to block it from her mind lest she panic over how bad she had definitely gotten. 

 

 

Stiles went into labor three weeks early, in the parking lot of the smoothie joint that had become her new best friend since her cravings started. Lydia wasn't there, and a stranger called 911 while Stiles hugged her swollen belly and screamed.

 

 

Her doctor was available, although apparently he cancelled three other appointments to be with her; she got the feeling he had gotten attached, probably because she had a lot of extra exams and she and Lydia had both called him up in the middle of the night more than once. And Melissa and John had his number so they had called him at least once and probably interrogated him. So yeah, he was a bit invested. Lydia left in the middle of one of her classes and held Stiles' hand the whole time.

The baby was a girl(they'd known that for weeks) and Stiles was going to call her Laura or Claudia(with the other's name as a middle name). But she didn't make a peep when she came out. They cleared her airways, the nurses and doctor all fussing and cooing and gentling. Lydia was the one to cut the cord, then she clutched at Stiles' hand while they stared with wide, worried eyes. The little bundle of pink cloth whimpered, and Stiles knew her name.

"Rosa," she whispered, and knew her mother wouldn't mind if Stiles' daughter wasn't named after her. "Rosa Talia Stilinski-Hale. You are mine. And your papa wolf is going to love you so much. Your parents beat the odds a million times, and now it's your turn. So, come on, pup." Her voice broke. Lydia wrapped her arms around her, and didn't say a word about the fact that her middle name was Rose. Stiles doubted either of them would ever mention it, not without a lot of alcohol or some sort of emotional overabundance as prompting. So maybe they'd talk about it at Lydia and Jackson's wedding or something. Apparently they were emotional now. It was a thing. Stiles blamed Rosa. And Stiles fully expected Rosa to be around to be blamed for it _forever._

They rushed Rosa out of the room without a word, and then a nurse came in to tell them what they already knew; Rosa was premature and not quite developed fully and they were going to do the best they could. And when she stabilized twenty four hours later(after Lydia and Stiles had gone through every emotion in their repertoire and about six boxes of tissues) Stiles laughed and announced, "That's my pup!" which made the nurse look at her weird but the doctor grinned; they'd been habitually calling the baby a pup for months. He had come to accept it to the point of even using it occasionally.

Rosa got exponentially healthier every day. Coincidentally, the full moon was exactly a month away from the day she was born. Of course. They took her home two weeks after her birth, after the doctor told them about how miraculous she was and Stiles and Lydia nodded and were appropriately shocked and relieved. It wasn't even acting; neither of them were sure of anything at this point. There wasn't exactly a trove of information on half-werewolf babies online.

Stiles and Lydia had gotten an apartment months earlier, but they hadn't gotten any permanent baby things. They didn't discuss it; they just...didn't get any. And then Rosa was born and Stiles and Lydia didn't say anything again; they just filled out the paperwork and cancelled the lease on their apartment, deposit be damned. Their landlady was understanding at least.

Stiles, Lydia and Rosa packed their bags(well, Rosa slept and cried occasionally and did general baby things, but some of the bags were hers so it counted, whatever) and drove home the day after Rosa got out of the hospital, promising to keep in touch with their definitely very attached doctor. He demanded regular updates and they fully intended to send him pictures whenever there was a reasonable excuse. Or even an unreasonable excuse. Stiles and Lydia took a lot of pictures. They were both sort of addicted to the camera. They could probably make a stop motion video with all the pictures they had, although why should they when they also recorded her pretty much constantly. It was absolutely idiotic. Stiles loved it.

 

"Oh my god she's so tiny!" Scott actually _squealed_ , having been informed of Rosa's existence about two months after Melissa found out because Stiles had a fit of emotions and called him. Allison, naturally, found out immediately after that and Isaac found out when Scott did because he was in the room and freaky werewolf strength came with freaky werewolf hearing. Plus, she was pretty sure even with the freaky hearing Scott had yet to break the habit of putting the phone on speaker when alone-ish.

"Wow, she's even smaller than you were," was John's helpful comment, earning himself an unamused glare from Stiles that didn't have any heat behind it because she was _exhausted._ He totally cooed and acted like an idiotically doting grandaddy though, so Stiles didn't have it in her to mind that she couldn't be properly annoyed.

"I made this," she told them as she handed over her sleepy little bundle of rage, feeling bedraggled and generally inclined towards abandoning her child and running. She and Lydia propped themselves up against each other, watching with identical expressions of fond amusement as Allison, Scott, Melissa and John all cooed over little Rosa, who was swaddled in Marvel baby items because sometimes Stiles out-stubborned even Lydia. Actually they out-stubborned each other and both just bought whatever they wanted for Rosa. They had even begrudgingly admitted to liking some of each other's choices. Once. Only once. Never again. Decorating Rosa's nursery was going to be amazing. Stiles was secretly hoping for a batman in a pink ballroom gown to show up at some point.

"She's beautiful, honey," Melissa crooned, stroking Rosa's ridiculous amount of black hair. She had started with blond peachfuzz and blue eyes, but was now rocking the black hair and...weird blue-green-hazel eyes. Everyone said they might continue to change, but Stiles had seen Derek's eyes and was pretty sure she had cloned him. Just...as a girl. Which, cool. Hopefully she'd be as pretty as her papa wolf's absolutely ridiculous family and look _absolutely nothing like her mother._ Stiles wasn't unattractive, but she was definitely the average one of their group.

And no Stiles had definitely not taken to referring to Derek as 'Papa Wolf' since Rosa's birth. Actually she had been calling him Papa Wolf in her head for years. It was just that, it used to be purely joking and now it felt disgustingly affectionate.

"Girls, you look half-dead. Go inside and get in bed. We're more than qualified to handle Rosa and your bags," John commanded. They gave half-hearted protests, but Melissa and John stared them into submission, and they were really, really tired. They both kissed Rosa's forehead, and Stiles gave everyone what Lydia was already calling her Mama Wolf look, and then Lydia gave everyone what Stiles called her Mama Bear look, and then they went inside. The stairs looked really, really long, like really long, so they just collapsed together on the couch; they'd crashed on couches together before, no big.

They didn't stir even when Allison laughed at their chosen arrangement, or when she covered them up as Melissa pulled their shoes off. They slept for 12 hours and Rosa didn't give her babysitters any problems, although Scott panicked a few times anyway because babies were scary. Isaac came over and helped because Scott was an incompetent boob(Allison's words; Stiles was proud. Or she would have been, but she was busy being in a very temporary coma).

They definitely woke up when Erica launched herself on top of them. Lydia groaned and Stiles whined. Erica laughed, then made a face and buried her nose in Stiles' neck despite Stiles' best attempts to bat her away.

"Why do you smell like barf?...and shit. And...milk. And babies. And, Stiles. Stiles what the Hell, did you take up babysitting or something?" Erica poked accusingly at her. Upstairs, Rosa let out a plaintive yelled. Stiles shot out of bed, throwing off the blanket and the werewolf.

"I'm coming," she called automatically, babies don't speak English be damned, and went racing up the stairs, mostly on autopilot. She scooped up her little one and proceeded to coo, grinning at the happy baby giggles she got in return. Claiming the chair her dad had just vacated, she plopped down and settled in to breast-feed the Tiny Terror. Scott made a vaguely horrified sound and John sighed in a resigned fashion, but Stiles just grinned, refreshed and fully embracing the new-baby feel once more. It helped that her baby looked so glowy and healthy now, a more drastic difference than anyone but she, Lydia and the hospital staff knew from a scant few weeks ago.

" _What._ " Stiles looked up finally and stared at Erica, who was staring back. And they stared. And stared some more.

"I see you still haven't outgrown Papa Wolf's monosyllabic tendencies," Stiles remarked casually and then wondered if she could jump out of a window with a baby. Probably not. Damn lack of werewolf badassery.

" _Stiles,_ " Erica hissed. "How did you have a baby. You've only been away for like half a year, what the f--frack."

"She's an infant, Erica, she can barely hear herself let alone curse words. Besides, we agreed that words are just words and we're not going to keep them from her, we're going to teach her that some words are considered bad instead," Lydia announced primly, only a partial quote from one of their millions of baby books.

"She's a werewolf baby," Erica said, completely without amusement, which, fair enough. They'd figured as much what with the whole full moon delivery and "miraculousness" but it was kind of nice to have a confirmation.

"Babies are babies," Lydia sniffed, purposefully ignoring the actual question in Erica's statement. "Even actual wolf cubs can barely hear when they're in this stage of development. Her sense of smell, however, is absurd, and if you bring fast food within twenty feet of her she will vomit so don't do that. Don't touch her with greasy fingers either. Just forgo fast food if you want to see her, actually, that'd probably be best. She really does not like fast food."

"I haven't had curly fries in six months," Stiles bemoaned, and that actually earned her a sympathetic look, and then a glare.

"That still doesn't explain how you had her, Stiles!" Dammit, Erica. Stop being sensible. Don't do math. Don't hurt Mama Stiles like that.

Stiles returned to the staring tactic, expression pained. It seemed like the best course of action, honestly. When Erica started to growl, Stiles' eyes got very big and watery, and she had the pleasure of watching Erica' resolve crumple. It shouldn't have been satisfying, but it totally was. Stiles was a bad person and she was completely okay with that right then. Stiles had had a hard time lately.

She'd probably cry at Lydia later though, worrying about being a bad mom. Again. For like the millionth time. In the past month alone. Lydia would probably smack her with something. Again. Probably something soft. Stiles felt like they were developing a lot of very weird rituals. She might cry about that too...Again. Stiles was definitely going to get revenge on her daughter for this someday. In like ten, twenty years, when she would be old enough to understand, Stiles would tell her why she had randomly not let her have ice cream or something. Whatever, she'd think of the perfect revenge eventually.

"Her name is Rosa," Lydia provided proudly. Stiles felt her face do something weird, probably something very sad judging by the looks she was getting from everyone else(which was everyone so far, and now Boyd because he and Erica were still disturbingly co-dependent so obviously he was now in the doorway with her).

Looking down at Rosa, who was blissfully sucking away, she sighed. "Her name is Rosa Talia Stinlinski-...Hale. In a way, she's the redcaps' fault, but mostly she's Derek's fault. Actually she's entirely Derek's fault. For future reference, I blame everything on him." Stiles nodded sagely, as her mind stopped plotting revenge on Rosa and started plotting it against Derek. Maybe she would cut the sleeves off his jacket. Or use it as a burping blanket for Rosa. Ha. Justice is a dish best served...uncomfortably warm and sticky.

Erica gaped at her, then let out a strangled noise and made a weird pointy flaily gesture that Stiles was pretty sure came from _her._ Which was weird and awesome at the same time.

"Does Derek know?" Boyd asked, stoic as ever, although there was a very suspicious glimmer in his eyes as he looked at Rosa. Stiles suspected he and Erica would be having a Talk later, purposefully capitalized T. She kissed Rosa's curls earning herself a tiny punch in the tit. Fortunately werewolf infants did not have werewolf strength at three weeks of age. Stiles was sort of hoping most of the werewolf stuff didn't kick in until Rosa was at least vocalizing reliably, because the Terrible Twos would be _so much worse_ with werewolfisms. The fast food vomit was bad enough. If she didn't grow out of that Stiles would probably punch Derek in the nuts. No, wait--no probably about it, she would definitely be punching Derek in the nuts if their spawn wouldn't let her have curly fries for the next two-or-more years. Stiles was so not cut out to be full-on healthy, as much as she'd adjusted to the doctor-approved healthy diet of healthiness.

Stiles shook her head in response to Boyd's question. "Not yet. But we're sort of...in town now. Permanently. So I guess I'll be telling him?" That was not supposed to be a question, except it was because it was sort of the only part she hadn't thought through yet. She'd avoided thinking it through by thinking of everything else. Pointedly.

"We're telling Derek today," Lydia said, because apparently Lydia thought of this. Yay Lydia. Go Lydia. You rock Ly--wait, what?

"Today?" Stiles squeaked. Rosa came loose with a little "pop" and wriggled, starting to fuss. Everyone was quiet while Stiles pet her and cooed until she went back to figuring out eating. She was pretty good at that at least. Stiles was proud of her. Usually. When she didn't spend fifteen minutes trying to suck on one of Stiles' moles, or just nuzzling her cleavage, or when she didn't immediately regurgitate all of the milk and then demand more. Normal baby stuff sure but damn did it seem stupid when she put any thought into it. What kind of idiot couldn't figure out eating? Babies. Babies couldn't.

"Yes, today. We're bringing Rosa along," Lydia said in her 'this is what I've decided and you will not argue with me' voice. Stiles knew it well.

"As a shield?" Stiles asked and because their relationship had evolved and changed both of them, Lydia nodded.

"As a shield."

"You are a wise woman. I hate you, but you're totally brilliant."

"And don't you ever forget it." Lydia tweaked her nose, unaffected by Stiles' responding face-scrunch, then turned to shoo people. "Out, Rosa's more likely to eat and keep everything down if Stiles falls asleep while breast-feeding, so everybody's going downstairs. I'll come get you in an hour."

"Make it two, she's eying my freckle again," Stiles sighed. Lydia smiled at her, and then everyone just abandoned her to the wiles of her idiot baby.

"I love you," she whispered to Rosa, hopefully too soft for the werewolves to hear. "But you are dumb. You take after your daddy in all the wrong ways."

"What."

Stiles stared at Derek in her window, enjoying flashbacks to The Good Old Days for a moment, and then she made a strangled noise somewhere between an offended pelican and an angry dolphin. She had no idea what either of those things sounded like but she had combined them, she was sure of it. Rosa did not approve, naturally, and promptly pulled away and began to scream and wave her tiny fists around as best she could. Stiles ignored Derek in favor of shushing the little screaming werewolf in her hands. By the time Rosa had settled back to sucking("no, nipple, not freckle, no, _nipple_. You're a horrible child.") Derek was gone, the window still open. And Stiles was left wondering why none of the windows in their house apparently had screens. And why Derek had come over. And whether or not she could just skip town and pretend this was all a bizarre fever-induced hallucination/dream. Rosa gave a particularly enthusiastic suck, as if to silently inform her that no, no she could not.

_Well fuck you too, pup._ Stiles huffed and settled down to nap, since thinking about Derek wasn't exactly going to help matters. She was apparently going to see him tonight anyway.

 

 

Rosa was in Perma-Sleep Mode, which meant the drive over to Derek's was full of Stiles quietly freaking out and Lydia alternating between threats and reassurances while Rosa slept blissfully away in her car seat. Which looked right at home in Lydia's fancy electric car that cost more than Stiles'...Stiles. Just, Stiles. Stiles was probably worth less on the black market than Lydia's fancy car. The car seat was equally fancy though, which probably helped with the blending. The Starfire(Teen Titans style) blanket that was already Rosa's favorite looked absurd against all the expensive shininess. Stiles approved and was proud of her child.

Peter was waiting outside when they arrived. His face went from "smug bastard" to a highly complicated expression that was both ridiculously adorable and happy and absolutely heart-breaking. Stiles categorized it as "Oh my God is that a baby!?"

In response, Stiles tried very hard to say "yes, yes it is, and it's all mine," with her face alone, which felt like a mix of smugness, pride, joy, and a little snarkiness but probably just looked like she was smirking because, according to Lydia, most people did not categorize facial expressions like Stiles did. Because, clearly, most people were boring.

"Her name is Rosa," Stiles told him, and Peter actually _cooed._ It was terrifying, and she could safely say that the only reason she let him pick Rosa up was because she was frozen in shock. "Rosa Talia." Peter looked at her, and she could swear there were tears in his eyes. He just smiled though, only a little smug-bastard-ish, although she had a feeling he was trying to act his usual cocky self. Which was, obviously, impossible while holding an adorable little baby werewolf who wasn't even being fussy.

"I'm sure my nephew can't wait to meet her," he said, and Stiles suddenly felt like grinning, so she did.

"You have no idea." He handed her back with a wicked grin, and she had a feeling he actually did have an idea. Huh. Oh right, he had been living with Derek during the redcap incident; he probably smelled Stiles on Derek. And then creepily remembered that nine months later. Almost to the day, actually, thinking about it. Huh.

"I'll be in town," Peter murmured, baby-soft. It was pretty cute. Stiles hadn't actively hated Peter for a long time, but she liked him better now. It was kind of like learning some asshole was a dog lover and suddenly thinking they weren't such assholes after all. "Just go on in. He's upstairs, but he'll probably meet you downstairs. Wouldn't want to make a woman with a baby walk up all those steps, after all. Your ankles are probably still sore." Stiles couldn't tell if he was making fun of her or genuinely concerned. Peter didn't seem sure either. They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, and then Rosa made an adorable snuffly noise and Peter's face went all soft and fuzzy-wuzzy. He turned and strode off into the woods without another word, probably hoping to find his man-card somewhere in the grass.

"Stop with the face, he's still creepy," Lydia scolded, and then they went inside.

Derek did indeed meet them downstairs. Right at the base of the stairs, in fact.

Lydia abandoned her immediately. Not even an excuse, just turned around and walked right back outside, shutting the door behind her. Stiles gaped after her, before realizing that, really, she should have anticipated that. It was very Lydia.

Cuddling Rosa close, trying really hard to not look like she was using her baby as a shield, Stiles faced her demons.

"Rosa Talia?" Derek whispered, and Stiles' heart just...broke. Just shattered into a million billion little pieces, then reformed into a brand new shape as she smiled at him. It was a stupid smile, she could just tell, all soft and besotted. She looked like a complete dork, and she didn't even care. Dammit Derek.

"Yeah," Stiles murmured, with a little nod, as she pet Rosa's soft curls.

Derek's mouth worked, gaze fixed on Rosa and unable to pull away. He looked like he was trying to look tough, but his eyes were almost as bright as Peter's had been when he blatantly ran away outside. The two Hale men were similar in more than just looks. He cleared his throat, then managed to ask, "Not Claudia?"

Stiles' throat closed up for a moment. She swallowed around a lump, shook her head. "No," she whispered, and smiled at him. "She was born premature. And the pregnancy--" her words choked off, thinking of the absolute _terror_ she and Lydia had been in, when Rosa was born, when Stiles could count her ribs, when the bump was just so tiny. She forced herself to continue, to not break down, because Derek was looking at her face now. "It was difficult. There were...difficulties. I--we almost lost her. A couple times, I think. And then when she was born...I figured, she could use an alpha name. And Lydia--her middle name's Rose, but I didn't want to just call her Rose. So. Rosa. The full moon triggered the labor, I think. I don't know if that's normal. I should probably--I should definitely have told you. Way sooner. I'm sorry. She's ours, Derek. She's a Hale. And a Stilinski. Her birth certificate says Stilinski-Hale. I thought it sounded nice. I mean she'll probably hate it for like fifteen years, but she'll get over it, no worries."

Derek's hands twitched. Stiles already knew that motion; that was "I want to hold her, but I'm scared to ask." She would have just told him, _yes, hold her, hold our daughter, dumbass,_ but he spoke before she got the chance. "I don't know if it's normal. Werewolves with human mothers--they don't, I mean, they don't really happen. Usually alphas discourage it, because if the baby is a werewolf, it will usually die even if the mother doesn't, and usually she does. Used to, at least. That's what the books say. But, human mothers--they don't...they normally have human children. I'm--I'm sorry, Stiles. I shouldn't have--"

"Look at her, Derek," Stiles interrupted, and since Derek was apparently too chicken, she closed the distance between them. "Look at our baby, and tell me we shouldn't have. It was stupid of us, and yeah, it was hard, and if I'd had a choice, I wouldn't have reproduced...probably at all, definitely not until long after college. But I don't regret my little pup. And you shouldn't either, Papa Wolf. Now stop being stupid and hold your daughter. I promised Dad a picture too, so if you cry, prepare to be ridiculed."

Derek held his daughter. Stiles took pictures. He cried, and she got at least thirty pictures of it, but no one ridiculed him. No one could. Not when he smiled at Rosa's sleepy gurgle like she was the sun he'd never seen before. The tiny little star in his life. Stiles' heart broke again, but only a little, and wound up even bigger than before. That happened, she'd found, when someone went and shoved themselves inside of it. Sure, Derek had been inside her heart for years, bigger than she'd admitted to anyone other than Lydia, but nothing was quite like seeing Derek with his--with _their_ daughter.

Lydia came back inside eventually and they all sat in the living room and turned on the TV and watched Derek with Rosa because nothing on television was a quarter as entertaining as that, although on the rare occasion Derek looked up they tried really hard to pretend they weren't watching him. It probably didn't work but Derek didn't show any signs of minding so Stiles figured it didn't matter.

 

Eventually Stiles, Lydia and Rosa went home, which was now Casa de Stilinski-and-Martin. They set up Rosa in the nursery that used to be Claudia Stilinski's workroom, and was actually Stiles' nursery before that. Stiles curled up in a cot beside Rosa's crib, and Lydia took Stiles' old room, muttering threats of redecorating along the way. They had a lot of redecorating to do, actually. Stiles fell asleep with Rosa's little hand wrapped around her finger and a book on her face.

 

Time wandered by, as it did. Stiles and Lydia started going to Standford, Stiles still only part-time but with plans to go full-time next year. Derek didn't show up for three days, so Stiles took the initiative and called him to tell him he was welcome over any time and in fact was required to relieve her of duty regularly. Everyone else in the pack, including Peter, took this as an open invitation to walk through the door whenever they so pleased. They looked after Rosa and let Stiles sleep though, so she really didn't care. She'd probably regret that in a few years, but just then it just seemed like a downright brilliant idea.

Peter showed up almost as much as Derek, which was impressive considering Derek rarely seemed to leave. Stiles was genuinely surprised when he wasn't around, and then again surprised when she learned he actually had a job. As a _mechanic._ After that she wondered how he was still holding that job down while spending so much time with Rosa. It was pretty damn impressive.

Derek somehow obtained a papoose and Stiles laughed herself to tears, and then Derek started going for walks with Rosa, and sometimes Stiles went along, when she wasn't busy sleeping or doing schoolwork, and she learned the joy of watching a baby werewolf encounter all the smells of the forest. It was great. She loved it, loved walking with Derek and Rosa. She also loved sleep, and school was actually awesome, and she loved the pack. The whole fucking pack. She even loved Isaac and Danny's boyfriends, and Scott's new girlfriend. Well actually she thought Scott's new girlfriend was inadequate and kind of a bitch, but she was keeping an eye on their relationship and was pretty sure they'd break up before it became problematic, so for the time being she enjoyed the woman and her sense of humor. Liked her well enough to tolerate her, even let her hold Rosa sometimes. When there was a werewolf nearby who could catch her. Because Stiles was paranoid and fully embraced it.

As it turned out, werewolves didn't start actually wolfing out until puberty, which was the same time their superstrength came in. Their hearing and sense of smell started off stronger than normal and worked its way up to ridiculous over the years, mostly by way of not losing their abilities like humans did. Lydia found it fascinating. Stiles pointed out that even if Lydia wrote a paper on baby werewolf senses, she wouldn't actually be able to publish it, and laughed at the broken-hearted look Lydia gave her in response.

On Christmas, Derek showed Stiles the room he had painted and built and made all perfect and pretty for their daughter. He didn't do it in pink either, which delighted Stiles. Instead it was all forests and birds and wildlife. There were actual feathers on some of the birds, and it turned out Isaac had helped with the wood-crafting, but the painting and artsy stuff? All Derek. Stiles started a plan to make Derek paint more, because the room was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen and that talent was completely wasted in a mechanic. And in that room, she told him that she'd changed some paperwork around. Her will, for one thing; if Stiles died, Derek and Lydia got dual custody of Rosa. And, with his signature, she gave him custody of Rosa with her. He kissed her forehead and got shiny-eyed, at a loss for words, and she gave him some ridiculous novelty shirts she'd been collecting for a while(most of them made wolf or werewolf references; one had grumpy cat), and that made him laugh, broke the tension. Lydia had hung up mistletoe everywhere, so Stiles gave him a peck on the lips that Christmas too, but they both kissed Rosa's cheeks at New Years.

For Rosa's first birthday, they had a giant ridiculous party and Rosa slept through most of it. Stiles was going to school full-time by then, and she and Lydia were taking the school by storm, even with people making snide remarks about teen mothers. It was a hell of a drive every day, but Stiles figured it was worth it. Derek painted a canvas for Rosa's nursery at the Stilinski-Martin house, and it was beautiful, and Stiles didn't cry, not at all, fuck off.

They sent out cards of course to the doctor, on every holiday and for Rosa's birthday, with pictures and pictures _and pictures and pictures_ , and he cheerfully responded to every single one.

 

 

Stiles didn't really realize what a ridiculous, cliche moron she was until Valentines Day rolled around and she left Rosa with Scott and Isaac, who were both single again and intent on spending the day being manly before she and Rosa showed up, with the eyes and the gurgling and the vaguely threatening undertones. She drove to the Hale's and kicked Peter and Cora out with a shout of, "I have romantic intentions!" They cleared out real quick. It was sort of adorable that even Peter thought it was too gross to stick around and be creepy when someone was romancing at his nephew.

Stiles thought a lot of things were cute nowadays. She didn't even hate it anymore. Motherhood had softened her. It was disgusting. Not that the vampires she shanked last week probably noticed.

Derek met her at the bottom of the stairs again, and she grinned ridiculously at the sappiness of it. Potentially. Assuming she had been reading him right. For months, he had been giving her this look that she'd been trying to put a name to. Today, watching stupid couples dork around each other, she'd realized that the best she could come up with was, "Why am I so stupidly in love with this dork? Oh that's why." And the worst part? She'd been giving him that look right back, and she hadn't even noticed.

"Derek Hale," she said, voice loud in the quiet house. Derek started, then frowned severely at her. It was cute. Shit. Why was Derek's scowly face cute? Oh right, because it was the look he reserved just for her, just for when she was confusing him or being difficult or just generally frustrating him. So yeah, it was pretty cute. "You're absolutely ridiculous, you know that?" Just because she was suddenly a bit more girly than previously definitely did not make her good at romantic declarations or anything of the sort. Derek looked puzzled. Shit she was going to break at this rate. "You're just. Ridiculous, like, in every way. I mean at first I thought it was just your stupid face and your ridiculous muscles and stuff, which, I mean, don't get me wrong. Still totally ridiculous. But now it's like--like that stuff doesn't even matter. Yeah, nice packaging, sure, but inside? Tch."

"Stiles?"

"Shut up, I'm talking about my feelings." She flicked his nose because she spent too much time with Lydia, then brushed hair from her face for the same reason. "Inside, though. I mean inside all this stupidly pretty packaging, is like a fucking heart of gold. Derek, Derek when you met Rosa--God, your face was better than puppies, okay? It was better than 'r/cute.' It was sunshine and rainbows and happiness. It was like everything was right with the world and Rosa was the center of all that and it was the most--it was art, it was Shakespeare in the park and Picasso's greatest masterpiece, except I could actually understand it. And ever since then, you've been...perfect. But not perfect-perfect, that'd be weird and suspicious. You're an idiot, frankly. You still get scared of Rosa, scared to touch her, scared someone's going to take her. You forget that you've got a whole huge family who loves you, and you blame yourself for _everything._ And you always put the toilet paper on backwards like a freak and for some reason you never remember when you put toast in so I constantly find cold toast in the damn toaster. You're a terrible cook, and you have all these stupid little habits, and probably a lot more that I'll hate in ten years and yell at you about. But you paint like you can put your heart on a paintbrush and spread it around, and you always try your hardest to be everything Rosa could ever want or need in a dad, and you're always trying to be the best alpha for the pack. You have stupid plans, but mostly because you're always trying to fucking sacrifice yourself and hey, guess what, that stops now. Because me and you? We're fucking _parents._ And our kid is amazing. And we are going to be horrible parents, probably, but we've got a lot of help and we're gonna do our best so that means were kind of amazing too so you _are not allowed to die._ Plus--I love the fuck out of you and I'd be majorly pissed if anything happened to you. In fact, to paraphrase a book we're totally reading to Rosa like six billion times; if you die, I'm never speaking to you again."

And then, because that just wasn't dramatic enough, she grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him in for a kiss that was less loving and more brutal. At least, until Derek's hands curved tenderly around the back of her head and neck, and he pulled her flush against him, turning the mashing of their mouths into a kiss soft and warm, nothing like the one they'd shared high on adrenaline after the redcaps, and yet it had that same flavor of passion. Stiles curled her fingers in his shirt, sighed into his mouth, and melted against him.

"I don't have any dramatic speeches," Derek murmured when they eventually needed to breathe, though their mouths were still so close she felt his moving against hers as he spoke. "Just--Stiles. I love listening to you talk."

"Oh _Derek,_ " she practically swooned, and there was laughter when they kissed again.

 

Stiles proposed two days before Rosa's third birthday.

Derek complained throughout a very complicated but firm _yes_.

**Author's Note:**

> Did that hurt you? Good. It could have hurt a lot worse. Originally, Stiles was going to miscarry, and Derek wouldn't even know about it for years until he found out that was a trigger for her and she had a lot of therapy and stuff. And then there was lots of fluff planned where they had a kid and Derek was a doting hubby and it was cutesy and wuffly and fuzzy wuzzy, but first it hurt a lot. I still kind of want to write it actually but I seriously do not have the patience for that.
> 
> Anyway. They basically lived happily ever after in this version, and probably had another kid and Derek got to be ridiculous with pregnant Stiles, and I dunno. stuff. With lots of slaying monsters and saving people thrown in for good measure. Scott and Isaac possibly hooked up eventually. Maybe Scallison happened eventually after all. But I kinda didn't want this to be big on "high school romances are 5ever."
> 
> Also I have absolutely no idea where Jackson was through all this I'm so sorry Jackypoo Stiles stole your girlfriend for this fic. I now realize that I regret not having him in being all "Baby<333" cause my headcanon involves a Jackson that totally loves kids. Oh well. Maybe next time I write a pregnancy fic because frankly, I will. I have no idea why. It'll happen though.
> 
> If you like pregnant(girl)stiles, post some reqs in the comments, or come bother me on [tumblr.](http://smartchicken.tumblr.com)


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